


Watched Again

by Sulla



Series: Watched [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Incest, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-18
Updated: 2011-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:20:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sulla/pseuds/Sulla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to Watched, in which Mycroft watches the footage of the events prior to the ones he witnessed 'live' the night before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watched Again

Mycroft Holmes came to work that morning feeling overly tired from a restless night. He had gone straight home last night after watching the surveillance footage from his brother's flat, and availed himself of not only _Cute Cops_ but also _Sexy Security_ and _Down and Dirty DIs_. That last one had potential, and got the job done, finally knocking out the image of Sherlock Holmes with John Watson from his head. But even after he'd come rather explosively, he still felt restless, and had spent the rest of the night tossing and turning and finally sleeping very lightly indeed.

Arriving at work, he found a notation from his assistant that, as ordered, the surveillance footage from the two hours before the episode he'd watched live was ready for viewing on the laptop in his office. Mycroft walked into the room, pulled the blinds against the early morning sun, and after placing his briefcase on the floor at an exact 45 degree angle from his chair and his umbrella in the wrought iron umbrella stand, he sat down to review the material. He needed to know what had gone on the night before, so that he was fully informed for his later visit to 221B Baker St.

From what he'd already seen, Mycroft knew that his brother and John Watson had begun a sexual relationship of some sort. He though 'of some sort' because he wasn't sure that it was a mutual relationship, as only his brother had been hard, and while John had been happy to kiss and fondle Sherlock to orgasm, Watson himself had remained flaccid and the two men had called it a night after Sherlock's climax. They had, it appeared, gone to sleep in John's bedroom _together_ , but that didn't mean anything decisively one way or the other.

The footage before him, he hoped, would give the events the context which it currently lacked. He pulled up the video player onto the screen, and after putting on the headphones provided for him, he started the feed which had been edited for content by the surveillance editorial team, who he valued greatly for working with the utmost discretion. The video started with a view of the street outside the flat. The time-stamp on the video established that it was just after 9PM, last night. A taxi cab pulled up to the kerb, disgorging the two men, one tall, lanky, dark-haired and waxen-skinned, dressed in his signature long and flowing coat, and the other shorter, blond and somewhat tanned, with a lean, compact build, yet possessing an aura of strength that his relatively diminutive size belied. The two men were talking quietly to each other as they stepped inside the flat's front door.

The view now changed to the hallway inside the house, at the bottom of the stairs. The change in the two men was also immediately apparent. The moment the front door closed, Sherlock grabbed the smaller man by his lapels and slammed him violently up against the door. Their eyes met and locked for a long moment, but then Sherlock seemed to have made up his mind, and he attacked John's mouth with his own. He appeared to be kissing with more tongue than a bullfrog on steroids, thought Mycroft, and Watson seemed to be giving as hard as he was getting.

Not to be out-done or bullied on account of his size, the ex-soldier shoved Sherlock away from him, and the first word of the video was spoken.

"Up!" the man barked, pointing towards the stairs to their flat.

Sherlock stared hard at John for just a moment, and then turned his back on his flatmate and ran up the stairs at a embarrassingly eager rate. Mycroft huffed to himself as he watched. Good job to give away the advantage, little brother, he thought sarcastically.

But Sherlock didn't seem to be thinking of anything at all except possibly getting into John Watson's pants. The view had changed to the interior of their flat, in the sitting room. Mycroft watched as Sherlock shed his long coat, draping it over one of the armchairs, and then Sherlock had once again pinned John to the wall, this time right at the door to the hallway, under the painting of the skull, beside the sofa. The breathless kissing resumed. This time it ended up being just as brief, as Sherlock's focus slipped from John's mouth to his cheek, then chin, and then he was kissing his way along John's jawline, aiming directly for the man's neck.

John groaned as Mycroft's brother licked a long, slow stripe up his neck, from his clavicle to just behind his left ear. It was about this time as well that Mycroft was finding himself in the same predicament that he'd been in the night before, hard as a rock in his trousers and not sure what to do about it. He ignored it mercilessly for the meantime.

John reached his hands up to the buttons on Sherlock's shirt and started to undo them, but Sherlock batted his hands away. He reached for John's waist and pulled the somewhat stuffy-looking jumper that John was wearing up and over his head, leaving a compact, well-muscled torso bare for examination.

Mycroft also found himself examining the man; he had a dusting of nearly colourless hair scattered across his chest, and the remains of a once-admirable six pack. That would be the effect of one too many pints at the pub, though Mycroft with a sigh, thinking of his own not-in-considerably attractive body of his youth. Not that John was much younger than Mycroft was now, but he pushed that thought away as he continued to watch the events unfolding before him.

John had succeeded in opening Sherlock's shirt and was pushing it down his arms until it slipped off onto the floor. As soon as he could, however, Sherlock was right back up against John's body, pressing his lean, hairless chest up again John's. Surely the boy must put on some weight, and fast, though Mycroft. It couldn't be healthy to be that angular. He's not sure why he didn't notice it on the video last night - could have been the lighting in the bedroom, or the fact that the men were lying down. He watched as Sherlock pulled back and leaned down to lick at John's nipples, one after the other, flicking his tongue at them, and following with his fingers to pull and pluck at them.

John's head was leaned back against the wall by this point, and his low groans were very audible on the video feed. He kept his eyes open, however, watching Sherlock's dark, curly head as it moved from one side of his chest to the other and back again. He had one hand in those curls and the other stroking Sherlock's lean shoulder and neck.

It was at the point that Sherlock dropped to his knees at John Watson's feet that Mycroft himself was unable to keep the moan that had been growing inside him from exiting his body. Mycroft's hand had crept to his own crotch and he was using the heel of his palm once again to put pressure on his erection. The surge of shame he felt was nearly as bad as that of the night before. He was trying to hold back, but the images before him were beginning to be too much.

Sherlock was working at John's belt and trousers, and within moments he had the man's trousers about his knees. Sherlock didn't bother yet with the pants; he just stared at the tented fabric poking out at him and Mycroft was sure that he could see his brother drooling at the sight. He didn't blame the man - the sight was impressive. He'd not seen the man's penis erect on the video last night, but now that he did, Mycroft was really very impressed. The fabric on the tip of the tent was darker than the rest, already wet with Watson's fluids. Mycroft waited for his brother to make his move.

Sherlock dived forwards and encased the fabric-covered head of John's cock in his mouth, sucking hard. John's hands were now both in Sherlock's hair, where they stroked his curls back out of his face. Sherlock let go of John's cock and moved his head down a little, and leaned forward to nuzzle his nose and mouth into the fabric covering John's cock and balls, and Mycroft thought he looked somewhat like a cat, rubbing his face over and over against the other man's testicles and letting the clothed cock run against his cheek.

Mycroft squeezed his cock in his trousers. This was... this was getting to be a bit much. Had he locked the door? He pressed pause on the video - freezing Sherlock in mid-rub - and jumped up to lock the main door to his office. Sitting back down again, somewhat breathless, he pressed play again.

John took his hands out of Sherlock's hair for a moment, and quickly eased his pants down below his cock and balls, leaving them at about mid-thigh. His cock bounced up hard and proud, foreskin pulled back to reveal a glans which was fairly dripping with pre-cum. His erection was so hard that it slapped his belly as he let it go, leaving a sticky string of fluid attached from the head of his prick to his navel. His balls were of good size and pulled up tightly to his body, indicating the degree of his arousal to be very high indeed.

Sherlock (and Mycroft) stared at what had been displayed before him, and visibly licked his lips. He leaned in again and started by continuing his nuzzling of John's balls, feeling the erect cock above him slap him lightly on the nose and across the face as he moved. He then started a lick at the base of John's cock and brought it slowly, sensuously up to the head, which he then circled with his tongue and dipped the tip of his tongue into the slit.

Mycroft couldn't hold out any longer. He grabbed a few tissues from the box on top of his desk and quickly undid his trousers, pulled his aching erection out of his pants. He spat as quietly as possible into his hand and used that and his pre-come to lubricate his hand upon his dick. He continued to watch his own brother fellating his flatmate, and resolutely shoved aside any residual guilt for the time being. He would deal with _that_ later.

John had one hand on the back of Sherlock's head and the other had taken his own dick in hand. He rubbed it all along Sherlock's cheeks and chin, and took a moment to touch the head gently to each of Sherlock's lowered eyelids. He painted the man's closed lips with pre-cum, and all through this he was speaking to Sherlock in a low voice which the audio engineers had managed to make louder, but not any clearer. It was just a series of low mumbles to Mycroft. But whatever he was saying, it was pleasing his brother; Sherlock's cheeks began to glow with rosy dots of colour, and he was gazing up at John's face with his eyes only half-open, in a look of what appeared dangerously like devotion.

Mycroft knew that if Sherlock knew his brother had seen him at this moment, he would be absolutely mortified, and would never forgive him. It was then that Mycroft decided that whatever decisions he made later this day, he would never tell his brother what he had seen.

John continued to murmur to Sherlock and rub his genitals on the man's face for a few moments longer, and then without an apparent word of urging, Sherlock opened his mouth and captured the head of John's cock in this mouth. John moaned louder this time, as his cock was taken deeply into Sherlock's mouth, and one of Sherlock's hands came up to stroke the bottom half of the impressively-sized penis. He sucked and stroked for some time, John continuing to speak quietly to him and beginning to thrust his hips gently in motion with Sherlock's sucking.

At one point, Sherlock reached down to his own waist, his erection apparent even through his trousers, but John spoke a little louder then.

"No, wait. Wait for me, I want to touch you; I'll make it good, just wait."

Sherlock's hand dropped away his crotch, and instead reached down beneath and behind John's balls, putting pressure on the man's perineum, dragging a gasp from the standing man's throat.

John finally put both hands on either side of Sherlock's head, and picked up the pace of his thrusts. Sherlock dropped his hands to rest limply on his thighs and simply let his mouth be used. As John thrust repeatedly into Sherlock's mouth, saliva began to build up in his mouth and overflow over his chin. He did nothing to stop it or clean it up, and the noises that were made in the back of Sherlock's throat from the surging cock were thick and wet.

It was apparent to Mycroft that John would come any second now. He stroked his own cock harder, panting in time with John in the video, and realized that he was likely to come around the same time.

At the last moments, John moved to pull away from Sherlock, apparently not wanting to come in Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock, quickly gripped John's hips and held on, refusing to let John's dick out of his mouth.

"Sherlock, I'm gonna..." gasped John, and Sherlock only locked eyes with him and nodded around John's cock..

That was enough for John, and he came with a long groan with his cock still inside Sherlock's mouth. Such was the quality of the hi def recording that Mycroft fancied that he could _see_ John's dick twitching and pulsing come into his brother's throat. That was enough for Mycroft too, and he came with a quiet gasp into the tissues he had in hand for the occasion. He tugged out the last few drips of his come as he watched the remainder of the video.

John seemed to have been a little too much for Sherlock, and he failed to catch all of the man's come. Some of it started dripping out of his mouth and down his chin, and Mycroft saw him swallow once, grimace against the taste, and swallow again.

As soon as John recovered enough from his ejaculation, a matter of moments, he was down on this knees in front of Sherlock and kissing him rapturousy. Sherlock immediately took the opportunity to try to push John down onto his back, but John stopped him with a quiet word.

"No, Sherlock, the bedroom. Let me take you into my bedroom and kiss you until you come. Sound good?"

The smug smirk on Sherlock's face told John (and Mycroft) that it did indeed sound good. The two men stood up, shucking the rest of their clothes as they went, and climbed the stairs, out of sight of the current camera. The view then switched to John's bedroom, and he was soon again watching what had happened last night. The fact that John had been limp at the end of the night made much more sense now.

Well, thought Mycroft, with a grimace of distaste at the dirty tissue in his hand, at least I know it's mutual, whatever is going on between them. He still didn't know if this was the first time, or if it had been going on for longer, but it did answer a few questions. He would get the rest of the answers later this morning, when he was to 'drop by' his brother's flat for a friendly chat with he and his flatmate.

Mycroft shoved aside any residual feelings of shame and quickly deleted the video file, making sure to erase it beyond restoration on the laptop. He then made a notation on his blackberry for all of the footage from last night to be destroyed.

After all, he did have _some_ sense of decency and discretion, he thought to himself.

*****


End file.
